


Comfort

by Jaybeefoxy



Series: Flufftober Prompts 2020 [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caretaking, Do Not Translate, Drabble, Fluff, Flufftober, Flufftober prompts 2020, M/M, Mystrade fluff, One Shot, Our boys being adorable, You do not have permission to post to another site, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:41:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26764486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaybeefoxy/pseuds/Jaybeefoxy
Summary: Mycroft and Greg have both had bad days, so it's time for some comfort.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Flufftober Prompts 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950532
Comments: 10
Kudos: 102





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Flufftober 2020 prompts, this is for the 2nd October, and the prompt was Comfort.

A bad day deserved some self-care, in Greg's opinion, but a bad week…That required a whole weekend. Mycroft had dragged himself back home on the Friday evening, tired, aching, and demoralised. The week had been spent wrangling idiots and trying to prevent them doing anything more ruinous to the Commonwealth than had already been achieved. It was like herding cats. 

"I'm home," he declared, apropo of nothing, because Gregory wouldn't yet be in residence. He had texted to say he'd been pulled into a last minute policy meeting with the Chief Super and he wouldn't be back before eight. 

Mycroft hung up his coat, took his laptop and briefcase to his office and locked them in the safe, then sat behind his desk, thinking. Take out, he considered, would be the best idea. He had a yen for a good pasanda, with poppadoms. Picking up the phone, he placed a call to his favourite Indian restaurant, promising a hefty tip for the extra distance. He was a good customer. He knew he wouldn't have to wait long. 

Greg was pissed off. The meeting had gone on far longer than planned. He arrived home, parked up in the basement garage, then trod wearily upstairs. The strains of gentle jazz reached his ears, a saxophone's sexy tones tugging on his memory, reeling him in like a siren call. Low lighting and the scent of spices enticed his senses, leading him into the lounge, where Mycroft Holmes lay in wait for him. He already had on his blue silk pjs and his Japanese brocade dressing gown. He looked good enough to eat.

"Good evening, darling," he purred. " **Comfort** awaits. Indian food, a comfy sofa, a real fire, and thou, beside me…" he misquoted with a smile, waving a hand for emphasis.

"Oh, God, this looks.. _.incredible_. Bad day?"

"Bad _week_ ," Mycroft amended, sighing. "You?"

"Effing policy meetings, all bloody day," Greg groaned. 

"Then we both deserve some cosseting, wouldn't you agree?"

"Wholeheartedly, Gorgeous. Let me help you forget, eh?"

"Indubitably, my dear," Mycroft declared, raising his whisky glass.

"Okay, how many have you had?"

"Only two, so far. I am pleasantly relaxed. Now come and eat."

Chuckling, Greg joined him, helping to serve the rather delicious pasanda, divvying up the poppadoms and cracking open a cold beer for himself.

This, he thought, was what made it worth the hassle, if he could come home to this. "Marry me," he said, between bites. "You're amazing."

"I know," Mycroft agreed. "The feeling is completely mutual." He chuckled, raising his glass again. "Perhaps, my dear, that's the reason we're already married."


End file.
